


My Fault

by DrAgOnLOvEr34



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Dark, Death, Gen, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Magic, Plot Twist, Ravenclaw, Sad, Slytherin, Surprise Ending, come on harry cheer up, harry is being all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 00:59:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7992754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrAgOnLOvEr34/pseuds/DrAgOnLOvEr34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why should Harry try anymore if all the people he loved were dead? What motivation did he honestly have anymore? He didn't have the answers to these questions, but what he did know was that it was all his fault. He deserved whatever was thrown at him next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Fault

**Author's Note:**

> Hey this is another one that I tried to rewrite! I hope it is a little better then the older version! Anyway, I am tried and I have classes tomorrow so yeah thanks for clicking on my story! :D
> 
> ~DrAgOnLOvEr34

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Harry glanced outside of the window with a dull look in his emerald eyes. Everything out there looked so grey and dead to his mind. He no longer could allow himself to take a moment and appreciate the nice fall weather, with the gorgeously bright color scheme of ambers and reds. What were colors anymore anyway?

Like the scarlet hue of red that blood had to it when it was outside of the body unwillingly. Or the deep greens and purples of the bruises that covered his own body top to bottom. What joy was there in thinking about them anymore?

He knew the reason he felt this way was utterly his fault and to be completely honest, he didn't know if he wanted to stop feeling that way. To him that would mean forgetting what had happened to all the people who he cared about more than he realized at the time. He brought this upon himself and almost reveled in the pain to a certain extent.

He welcomed it.

He embraced it.

He would never forget this way nor forgive himself. It was the least he could do for his friends now that they were dead.

They were all gone after all and nothing he could do would change that. Every single person he cared about had been ripped from his arms as he screamed for them to run. In his dreams he shouted so much when he woke up his throat was raw and his head was pounding. Then again that could have been the firewhisky he seemed to consume by the bottle every night. Harry wouldn't be surprised if he no longer had blood in his body but alcohol instead.

Everywhere he went, he saw memories of things they did together when they were alive. He saw these so clearly that sometimes he tried to reach out to them. He tried to talk to them to apologize for not being the friend he should've been. One time it seemed so real that he tried to grab Hermione and bring her into a hug, only to catch empty air, before he fell down to his knees, arms reaching out in front of him. It brought a cold shiver down his spine as he sat in the dew soaked grass afterwards. He didn't move from that spot for a long time.

Now when Harry saw them he would just sit back and watch, pretending it was all real. These memories showed times when everything had been better and they all still had their innocence. Something that had been so cruelly yanked away from them before they even realized what was happening. You don't realize you miss something until it's gone like that.

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Oh Merlin, he always saw Ron and him sitting in the Gryffindor common room playing chess. If Harry was completely honest with himself, he bloody hated that game with every fiber of his being. Ron didn't though. His best friend had loved playing that game so much that Harry played almost every night with him, always ending in Harry getting massacred in the end.

A ghost of a smile graced Harry's bloody, chapped lips. Ron may not have admitted it but he was proud of his skill in chess. He was a brilliant strategist, seeming to be thinking ten moves ahead of everyone else. He was bloody brilliant and Harry wished he would've told him that more often than he had. He also wished that he made sure to tell Ron how much he valued being his friend. One of the first he actually had in his life. He knew that if he was ever in a horrible situation Ron had his back without even asking.

Ron had died a hero, something he and Harry had talked about late at night when they couldn't sleep because of the nightmares that plagued them. They said to each other, that the only death they would accept would be a hero's death. It was the honorable way to go and a great way to be remembered after they were gone.

That's probably why Ron had died saving his entire family. He fought and battled with everything he had to make sure they would all live to see the sunrise the next day. Just when they had both thought the battle had been won, someone cowardly threw that disgusting killing curse at Ron's turned back. He had died with a smile on his face while Harry killed the bastard who did it. It was a fast death and that was something Harry could actually be thankful for.

\-----------------------------------------------

After that happened Harry buried himself in research at the library, trying to find anything to bring him back. There had to be some sort of time travel spell or something to bring his best friend back. Hermione, brilliant Hermione, had been the one who had knocked some sense into him.

"Harry! Harry you put that book down right now and stop trying to bring him back!" Hermione had shouted her eyes wide and hair even more of a mess than usual. That's when Harry had noticed how tired and pale she looked, the hand on his shoulder shaking with exhaustion. He put the book down.

"I miss him," he whispered, closing his eyes. Hermione gathered him into a hug before sinking down to the floor of the library with him.

"We all miss him but we both know this wouldn't be what he wanted us to do." Hermione said, "He would've wanted us to protect his family and find a way to end this war."

They both stayed silent before he nodded.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"It's okay. How about we look together a little bit longer and then leave?" she replied, giving him a smile. He had nodded and they both went back to searching.

Harry kind of felt like she needed to look, hoping it would help her find some sort of closure, just like he had been doing this whole time.

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She probably would've found the answer by now, Harry was almost sure of it. She had always been smart; the brightest witch of their generation. A title that she deserved and no one should've disagreed with.

He had always pictured Hermione changing things in the Wizarding World after the war. To be completely honest, sometimes she had scared Harry with her determination to fix all the wrongs she saw happen to muggleborns. All the good she could've done only to be cut short because of this horrible war.

The only thing he was thankful for was that she actually had a peaceful death compared to everyone else. They had been searching for some sort of potion that would help them win the war and give them an advantage against Voldemort, only for her to be wrong and mess up. It had backfired on them and she lost her life because of it. Maybe if Harry hadn't rushed her she would still be besides him right now. It was kind of morbid, now that he actually had time to stop and think about it.

The one thing that was her greatest asset actually ended up killing her in the end.

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The wind started blowing making him flinch from the frigid air. He got up and wrestled the window shut, almost hearing an echo of Hermione complaining about him getting sick. A tear dropped from Harry's eyes, surprising him. He touched his face staring at the tear in a weird kind of fascinated trance. Tilting his hand, he watched it race against gravity, before it disappeared. He thought he had lost the ability to cry a long time ago when Neville died.

'He guessed he hadn't,' he thought as a bitter chuckle bubbled up from his throat.

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Neville's death had been something Harry really hadn't expected. He had been one of the last that had survived with him, almost making it longer than anyone else. Neville had always been someone that had been a great listener, someone who passed no judgement on you. Whenever Harry needed some time to think, Neville was the person he went to.

The greenhouses became a regular stop for Harry as he was making his rounds around the perimeter of the school. The feeling of having your hands buried in dirt and trying to bring life to a tiny seed was almost relaxing in a way. They would plant things together and reminisce about what they missed.

"Hogwarts meals," Neville said with a laugh.

"Playing Quidditch and winning against Slytherin." Harry threw out, taking his hand out of the soil to push his glasses up his sweaty nose. Neville looked up at him before laughing.

"You have a little bit of something on your nose!" He picked up a hand towel and threw it at Harry. Giving him a grin of thanks, he used it to clean his nose off probably smearing it even more. Where was Hermione and her hand sanitizer when you needed her? After that thought passed his mind, Harry froze.

"Hermione," Harry mumbled, sitting back on his legs. He stared at his hands, picking the dirt from underneath the fingernails.

"Ron," Neville said with a little tremble in his voice, before lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. They were silent for a couple of minutes.

"Neville," Harry began, breaking the quiet, "we have to win this thing for them. It's what we were all trying to do and what they died for."

Neville looked at him before nodding solemnly.

"I agree."

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Neville was killed by one of the only things he still found joy in with a world that was ravaged by war. Harry and Neville had both been out on a run trying to find where Voldemort's headquarters may be located and fell into a trap. This wouldn't have been so bad if they had both been in the same trap. Harry somehow managed to fall into a hole littered with different poisonous animals of the magical world.

He had it easy.

By the time he managed to get out, Neville had been choked to death by vine that had suspended him in midair. Harry found Neville's wand in the bushes a distance away from the trap, snapped in two pieces.

The thing that had originally brought Neville great joy when he was alive actually ended up killing him. If only Harry had been a couple seconds faster, maybe he could've cut the vine in time. Harry kept Neville's wand with him in this little pouch around his neck to remind him of another person he had failed.

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Watching as the leaves aggressively danced around to the tune of the wind, Harry pictured Luna. Luna had always been a free soul; someone who could never be tied down by anyone. She was someone who would dance around and sing without a care in the world. When she walked or pranced around, she always seemed to be floating on air.

Everyone had a bet between them on what type of magical creature she had in her blood. Harry never had the chance to put his bet down, but he would've put something innocent and carefree as his guess. She was the little sister to everyone, but Neville. They were something a little more and Harry hadn't actually been surprised when he found out. They were good for each other.

That's why it was so hard to be the one to tell her that he was dead. He thinks that's when she actually started to deteriorate and become careless in battle. Her death was the bloodiest and the slowest of them all. They had been captured and tortured in front of each other for hours. Finally Luna's body couldn't take it anymore and it gave up. He saw it every night when he closed his eyes. The nightmares he had about her were horrible. Watching the life drain out of the eyes of someone so childlike will haunt him for the rest of his life.

\-------------------------------------

Suddenly, Harry started sobbing and he couldn't stop. They tore through his chest, to a point where he started dry heaving from the pain. All of their deaths were his fault and he would never ever forgive himself nor forgot what they went through. They had counted on him and he had failed as a leader and a friend.

What did that leave him anymore?

He no longer had a reason to fight because what was the point?

His reasons for doing it originally were all dead and buried in the ground.

\-------------------------------------------

"Hermione, do you think he is ever going to wake up?" Ron asked quietly, as he gazed at the still body of his best friend on the infirmary bed. No matter how many things they tried they could never get his eyes shut, making them all stare at blank emerald eyes. He started pacing when she just looked at him with tear filled eyes and shook her head. That wasn't the answer he wanted to hear.

"Why doesn't he wake up?" demanded Ron, stopping by Hermione's chair so he could bury his face into her hair. She turned around and pulled him into a much needed hug.

"Whatever spell they used on him Ron, makes it so he can never wake up. He is stuck in his worst nightmare. Every single negative thing he ever thought about himself, he is now hearing it. Every single dark idea that has ever come to or that he has even imaged is happening to him again and again. He is stuck this way because we have no cure."

"We should have been there for him! He was always there for us! WHY WEREN'T WE THERE FOR HIM?" Ron bellowed red in the face, tearing out of her arms. He stormed to the window, watching as the leaves swirled around furiously in the air.

"Why weren't we there for him?" He repeated brokenly, head now in his hands.

"It is all our faults and there is nothing we can do to fix it," whispered Neville from the other side of the bed, where he was holding a shaking Luna.

The statement was echoed in all of their minds on repeat, almost acting like some sort of song on the radio that was stuck on the same lyric. What kind of friends were they if they couldn't even repay back someone who had done so many things for them?

\--------------------------------------

It's our fault.


End file.
